Budding Devotion
by Faded Nights
Summary: Glances into important growing and turning points in Bellatrix's life, from her graduation at Hogwarts and on. one shot


Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters are copyright Joanne Rowling.

Note: According to the film version of OotP, Bellatrix is nine years older than Sirius. Since I am assuming that they consulted Jo Rowling before putting this number into the movie, I'm going with it.

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**Budding Devotion**

Bellatrix Black was perched on a couch in her aunt's drawing room, her posture and expression haughty and her eyes bored as she stared out at the scene before her. She twirled her wand idly in her hand, doing her best to ignore her eldest cousin when he came up to her and started tugging on the sleeve of her robes, clearly wanting her to come play with him. She sneered and jerked her sleeve from his grip, "Go find Andromeda if you want someone older to play with." She demanded. Eighteen and fresh from her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, Bellatrix did not appreciate having to baby-sit small children while her mother and aunt were downstairs.

As though summoned by her name, Andromeda came into the room. She was slightly sooty, but was carefully dusting the dirt from her robes even as she passed through and weaved around her cousins and younger sister where they sat on the floor. Sirius grabbed at her robes too, but Andromeda gently shooed him off. "A minute, Sirius," she said, not unkindly.

"And where were you?" Bellatrix sneered, glaring at the sister who looked so similar to her. "Off snogging your filthy Mudblood boyfriend?" Andromeda met Bellatrix' accusing eyes with a glare of her own, then shook her head and looked away as she pulled a bugging Regulus onto her lap.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Bella," Andromeda said off-handedly. Bellatrix' eyes hardened into a glare again and her hand tightened fractionally on her wand. Regulus was staring at her with wide eyes from his perch on Andromeda's lap, and the room had gone silent, which meant that Sirius and Cissy were probably watching the show as well. Good, they needed to learn once and for all that there were certain folk that were beneath the notice of the Black family.

"Don't you _lie_ to me, Andromeda!" Bellatrix hissed. Red sparks shot from the end of her wand. Her sister stared at her, a frown marring her features. "Have you told mother? How about our auntie?" Bellatrix drawled out a moment later, her lips curling into an amused, sadistic smirk. She already knew the answer. There was no way Andromeda had told either of her… preferences. The girl wouldn't still be sitting here if she had.

"At least I have someone to snog," Andromeda hissed. Bellatrix raised her wand, pointing it toward the other girl, Regulus' body the only thing between the two. The child stared down at the wand and let out a soft whisper that sound like the beginning of a sob, not realising that it wasn't he Bellatrix was aiming at.

"You wouldn't _dare_," Andromeda said, her voice fallen to a whisper as she clutched her little cousin to her chest.

Bellatrix glowered, then moved her wand in a flash of speed that brought the curse she'd cast just to one side of Regulus, to hit Andromeda squarely. Within moments, boils had spread across Andromeda's face and hands. "Oh, really?" Bellatrix asked softly. She lowered her wand and tugged Regulus from where he was, paralysed, on Andromeda's lap.

"Dump him, Andromeda. Send him an owl and dump him. We'll talk again soon." Bellatrix led Regulus by the hand back to his brother, who quickly grabbed him and started forcing small toys at him, trying to get the shock off of his face. Narcissa, who had been sitting in one of the other chairs in the room, rose from her place to follow Bellatrix as she left the room.

"Is Ted really Muggleborn?" Narcissa asked, catching up to Bellatrix and looking up at her as the two of them walked side-by-side down the hall. Bellatrix gave a jerky nod in response, stowing her wand away in her pocket as she looked down at Narcissa. She wondered, and not for the first time, where Narcissa's remarkable blonde hair had popped up from.

Narcissa was silent for a few moments, staring at her feet as the two made their way through the house, then, suddenly, she looked back up at Bellatrix and spoke again. "He seemed nice though, Bella. Dromeda introduced---"

"He's a Mudblood, Narcissa. I don't care how 'nice' he is." Bellatrix snapped across whatever her sister had been trying to say. The younger girl fell silent, then nodded, understanding.

"Would you really have hexed Regulus?" Narcissa asked. Bellatrix looked down at Narcissa this time, sighed, and then shrugged. "Oh, Bella! You would've gotten into so much trouble! Mother's going to be so angry that you hexed Dromeda…"

Bellatrix gave a snort of laughter. "She wouldn't be if she knew the kind of company that Andromeda is sullying herself with. A Mudblood! A Black and a Mudblood! It's an abomination!" Narcissa's pale eyes glittered in the torches that lined the hallway, but there was very little emotion in them, hiding whatever Narcissa really thought of Bellatrix' words.

"Bellatrix! Bella-- Oh, there you are." A woman, Bellatrix and Narcissa's mother, popped her head out of the door in front of them, and she beckoned her eldest with a casual wave of her hand. "Come. We must discuss the arrangements for your marriage to Rodolphus. Narcissa, back upstairs." Bellatrix exchanged quick glances with Narcissa, receiving a pitying one from her younger sister, before the girl turned and made her way back up the stairs, leaving Bellatrix to sit in boredom while her mother and aunt planned a wedding that no part of her wished to participate in.

x

Bellatrix Lestrange (née Black) paced back and forth across the expansive bedroom that she shared with her husband, Rodolphus, shaking her arm back and forth to try and rid her left forearm of its fierce stinging. While Bellatrix was sure that the pain would let up eventually, it was not the most pleasant of feelings now – to say the very least.

Hissing, Bellatrix pulled back the sleeve of her robes to look at the pained forearm. The skin beneath the mark was an angry red, having not liked the spell that had burnt the drawing into her flesh. Bellatrix, however, was utterly fascinated. She had worked long and hard for this. Not every Death Eater was marked as one of the Dark Lord's own. In fact, very few were. The Dark Lord's Inner Circle was small and secretive, and now, Bellatrix could count herself a member of it.

She laughed softly to herself and let the sleeve drop back down over the pained arm at the sound of footsteps bounding up the stairs. Moments later, Rodolphus had come through the door, grabbed her by the waist, and spun her around. Bellatrix had her wand shoved under his chin half a second after her feet left the ground, the action a non-verbal indication that she did not appreciate the way he was treating her.

Rodolphus grinned at her and put her down again, but Bellatrix didn't lower her wand, preferring to watch her husband warily for a long moment. "Aih done it, Bella!" he slurred out. Bellatrix caught the whiff of alcohol and made a face. "'e made meh one o' 'is!"

Bellatrix watched her husband with a mixture of interest and disgust as he swaggered over to the large bed and fell down atop the duvet, turning his head in Bellatrix' direction and grinning. Bellatrix noted the pressure he was putting on his left arm, and frowned. If he'd been gifted with the mark, then surely that would be painful.

Oh but of course, that explained the drinking. He'd drunk himself to the point where he couldn't feel the stinging of the freshly branded skin. The sissy coward; couldn't even deal with it with the knowledge of what a great gift he'd been given! Not for the first time, Bellatrix wished that her mother had never arranged this union. If it had been _her_ choice, she'd never have married a man like Rodolphus.

Oh, he was loyal enough. To both the Dark Lord and to her, and he didn't mind accompanying her, and even assisting her in her assignments – or even when she wished to just have fun – and during those times, she could bear him. Away from the Dark Lord and his blessings, though, Rodolphus was different. He seemed to think that he could 'win' Bellatrix over. That he could make her 'love' him. 'See reason,' he'd said once before.

Bellatrix knew that she was about as likely to fall in love with him as she was to denounce the Dark Lord and become an Auror, and she'd told Rodolphus so, but the man refused to listen. "'e bring yew o'er too, Bella?" Bellatrix raised a sceptical eyebrow, wondering if there was any point to answering his questions. She was quite certain that he wouldn't remember this conversation once dawn came.

"Go to sleep, Rodolphus," she said, shaking her head and leaving the room, extinguishing the lamp as she went with a wave of her wand. She half expected to be called back, for him to demand that she answer her question, but instead only a snore came from within the room.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Rodolphus didn't deserve to be one of the Inner Circle. The Inner Circle was made up of witches and wizards that were competent. Witches and wizards that the Dark Lord trusted. At least, that's what she's thought. Bellatrix wasn't really aware of who was in the Inner Circle and who wasn't, not yet at least. She was sure though, that she'd be told soon.

She would prove herself to be the Dark Lord's most devoted servant. She could see herself one day being his right hand, his head lieutenant, someone whom he could trust to complete any task given, flawlessly and without risk of fail. Bellatrix, who had no one she truly cared about – except her sister, of course, but Narcissa had made a solid Pureblood marriage and was at no risk from the Dark Lord – could and would do anything that was asked of her. Absolutely anything.

x

She had failed. _Failed_. That damned Prophecy; that damned Potter boy. She wasn't allowed to fail! She had worked so hard, endured years in Azkaban, all for her Master, only to fail him upon being released from her gaol? Disgusting, despicable. Bellatrix deserved every second of torture that followed her failure, despite Rodolphus' pleading to the Dark Lord that it was excessive, that surely she didn't deserve so much.

If the Dark Lord felt that the torture was needed to make Bellatrix more loyal to him, more able to serve, then she would endure it. She was not weak, and she knew that he would not kill her. To kill her would be to leave him with subservient devotees. To kill her, would be to leave him without a part of himself.

Bellatrix had reached her goal. She was the most important member of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, and one of the most feared Death Eaters in Britain, maybe even in Europe. It hadn't, however, been enough. She had still been defeated, beaten by a group of _students_ and that damned Order of the Phoenix.

Dumbledore… Bellatrix seethed, her mind taken away from her torture by her utter hatred of the man who was trying so hard to see her Master dead. It wouldn't happen. Dumbledore would never see her Master fall, never. The Dark Lord was stronger, more resourceful. The Dark Lord had _her._

_End.  
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---As usual, feedback is lovely! 


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